


Bound to Fall

by Rikkapikasnikka



Series: She's Gonna Change My Plans [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Dating but Slow, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Ice Cream, Post S2 Episode 13: Captain Hardrock, Songwriting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24916585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikkapikasnikka/pseuds/Rikkapikasnikka
Summary: Luka had never been particularly generous before. Yet watching her, as she fiddled that guitar pick back and forth, her vivid, sapphire eyes curiously watching the way the lights flickered off the plastic, made Luka want to give her the world and more.“You can have it if you like. I’ve got plenty.”He didn’t. He had bought three, but one was Juleka’s and the other was lost in the Seine, and the third was right there, between her fingers, flipping back and forth between her hands as she stared at it and stared at him.- A gift for my wonderful beta reader <3
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: She's Gonna Change My Plans [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828366
Comments: 26
Kudos: 159





	Bound to Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sagansjagger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagansjagger/gifts).



> My normal beta was having a rough day, so I asked her for a pairing and a prompt and wrote this out for her. <3 Thank you for everything you do, Cass!
> 
> Thank you to Amber and Flower for the quick beta read!
> 
> EDIT: Now with fanart from [fictionalinfinity!](https://www.instagram.com/fictionalinfinity_/) Thank you so much for the gift, Maddy!

Luka had never been particularly generous before. 

Yet watching her, as she fiddled that guitar pick back and forth, her vivid, sapphire eyes curiously watching the way the lights flickered off the plastic, made Luka want to give her the world and more.

“You can have it if you like. I’ve got plenty.”

He didn’t. He had bought three, but one was Juleka’s and the other was lost in the Seine, and the third was right there, between her fingers, flipping back and forth between her hands as she stared at it and stared at him. Her grin grew a little strained. Had he said something wrong?

“Oh!” She looked at him, looked down, and her smile lightened. “Thanks!”

And Marinette put the pick away in her purse, which was hand-embroidered and hand-sewn, as beautifully and delicately put together as she herself was. Luka had hoped to tease her further, but he realised she looked upset when he did, so he took a moment to take a step back and go see what his mum wanted.

That day hadn’t turned out the best. The highlight of it was that brave, beautiful, funny girl that had changed all his plans in only a few words. Juleka came and found him at nearly four in the morning, still scribbling notes and lyrics on paper. His tired, trembling fingers were still trying to strum chords and melodies that wouldn’t fade from his head.

“What’re you doing awake?” she asked him, sitting in the cloth chair next to him as he rubbed his eyes. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said simply, picking up his pencil again to work out the next set of chords and assigning them to words. “Just...too much on my mind.”

Juleka looked down at her hands, where she had clasped them together in her lap. 

“Is it because of Mum?” she whispered, even lower than usual. Luka hummed in response. 

Yes, Anarka’s Akumatisation had been terrifying. Yet once Marinette had left to go get help, he hadn’t been scared. Ladybug and Chat Noir would save them, _had_ saved them, and that was how things worked in Paris. While it was concerning that another Akuma had happened within his family, Luka wasn’t worried. Someday, perhaps, his own day would come, and Ladybug would save him too.

“Not really,” he answered honestly, after the silence had turned into lapping water and the low hum of the city. At this time of the morning, barely anyone was awake. A baker on the corner had started their fires, and a delivery boy was making the rounds with the newspaper, but the city itself was in a lull. “I just had a song stuck in my head.”

Juleka shifted in her chair and started to comb her fingers through her long hair. Luka ran his hands over the nylon strings on his acoustic, muttering lyrics to himself as he worked through the notes he had written down. Juleka listened intently as her brother reorganised the bridge and the chorus, changed up verses, and slipped in one word for another.

“You like her,” his sister said. He paused.

“I…”

“I _knew_ you were staring at her too much,” Juleka scolded him, her brow furrowing. Her hands left her hair, and she drew in her knees instead, partway curling up in the chair as she leaned back. “She’s head over heels for someone else, y’know that right?”

Luka flinched, and his fingers slipped over the strings. He quickly pressed the edge of his palm over the bridge to stop the ugly noise. Somewhere far away, a bird started to chirp, and the sound echoed across the water.

“I know,” Luka exhaled, all of the air leaving him in one, great rush. It felt like he was breathing without permission, and the ache in his chest returned full force. Air moved slowly back into his lungs as he inhaled, lifting his shoulders and unwinding the knot that was his heart. “I won’t pressure her.”

When Juleka said nothing, Luka returned to teasing out the melody a little further, dragging out one final verse and writing it down once he was finished. On the horizon, where the sky had been perpetually grey and blue all night, muted yellow light started to seep upwards.

“You should sleep some more,” Luka said absently as his pencil scratched against the paper. “You have school.”

“So do you,” Juleka mumbled, but Luka shrugged.

“I can catch up later at least,” he reasoned more with himself than her, holding back a yawn that quivered in his throat. “I need to get this out.”

“You’ve never written a song for anyone before,” she pointed out, and Luka smiled fondly.

“You don’t even know,” Luka whispered, putting the pencil down and sitting straight again. “I don’t even know yet, how far I’d go for her. I’m…” Absently, his fingers plucked out the chorus again, calluses aching against the strings. Despite the softer nylon, despite his years of continuous playing, he had never stayed up all night like this before. In the back of his mind, he wondered if his fingers would bleed for the first time in what felt like forever. “It feels like falling. Or like I’m bound to fall.”

Juleka snorted, but her eyes slipped close as he started the song again. As the first of the sun’s light started to shimmer against the windows of buildings and the street lamps flickered off, Luka continued to play the song he had written, over and over, tweaking it until it was perfection.

* * *

Luka was too reserved and shy to play the song for Marinette until months later. His unexpected generosity streak continued - he ended up giving her not only that guitar pick, but also whatever little he had in his wallet. Too ashamed to admit to his mum he had squandered his allowance on rental ice skates, and all the other details of their supposed-date, Luka went and found a job delivering meal kits via his bicycle. And then proceeded to use _that_ money on small tokens of affection for her too.

Seeing Marinette’s face light up each time was worth it.

She kept that guitar pick, and Luka smiled whenever he caught sight of her fingers fidgeting with it, knowing there was nothing in his wallet worth more than her happiness.

“You didn’t have to pay again,” Marinette chastised him with a smile, ice cream in hand as they sat down on a bench. “It was definitely my turn.”

“I don’t mind,” Luka replied, taking the spoon and admiring the vibrancy of the cream before eating. “I like spoiling you.”

Her face softened. “You don’t have to.”

“You spoil me with homemade cookies,” Luka retorted, his smile breaking into a smirk. “And this is the only way I can return the favour.”

Her laughter filled him, warmed him, and soothed the worry in his heart. Still, months after she had picked him, Luka was anxious, but they were taking things slow and steady. Their dates were small, innocent adventures through the city of Paris, walks along the Seine and through various squares and parks, tours of museums and monuments, and journeys through several tiny cafes on quiet corners. Their kisses were sweet, gentle, and soft. Her hands were just as worn as his, and Luka ran his thumb over the slight calluses on the pads of her fingers - most likely from needles or holding a pencil or from some other, creative craft.

“Marinette…” Luka said quietly, once their ice cream was shared and they were content to bask in the sun, leaning against each other, the sound of water and people and wind all around them but never intrusive. “Do you think it’s too soon?”

Her eyes, still vivid, still like sapphires, opened lazily. “No,” she mumbled. “Not anymore.”

As if she had given her permission to breathe, oxygen soared through his chest before he spoke again.

“I think I love you.”

And she smiled, and she giggled, and Marinette curled up tighter against his side, laying her head on his shoulder as he nuzzled into her hair and kissed the crown of her head.

“I think I love you too, Luka.”

Marinette was admirably generous with her love and who she gave it to. And to Luka, that was the greatest gift of all.

  


**Author's Note:**

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